


The Mysterious Man at the Bar

by chocolatechipcumbercookie (labelleplume)



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Bartender - Freeform, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Midgard, Shameless Smut, Virgin Loki, Virgin Reader, Virgin You, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labelleplume/pseuds/chocolatechipcumbercookie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're a bartender, stuck at your job, trying to get out.  It seems like you'll never escape until an enigmatic man shows up one night, dressed in forest green, black leather, and metal.  After an interesting first encounter, he comes back every night to talk to you.  He says his name is Loki.  The things he talks about: magic, Asgard, warriors, it hardly seems real.  But could Loki be telling the truth?  Could Loki be your ticket to freedom?  Should you trust the growing feelings you have for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mysterious Man at the Bar

Work is a little slow, the bar quieter than usual. A few customers here and there mill around the pool table. You take a cloth and start wiping down the counter, cleaning off spilled dreams and drowned sorrows. You hate slow days, the boredom is stifling.

The door opens and a man walks in. You stare at him curiously. His outfit is bizarre, a dark forest green mixed with black leather and metal. A biker possibly? You look out the glass doors but don’t see a motorcycle. He sweeps his gaze around the bar insolently, his hands clasped behind his back with deceptive politeness. The man sits at a stool at the bar.

“What can I do for you sir?” you ask, the memorized question rolling off your tongue easily.

“I’ve never been to Midgard before. Never thought it interesting enough to be worth the effort. They won’t think to look for me here,” he glances up at you deviously. Midgard? What was this man talking about? You sigh, he’s one of those types that mumble nonsense all night. As long as he doesn’t cause any trouble, he should be fine. The man runs his eyes over the drinks list several times before you interrupt.

“Need a suggestion?” you ask. He gives you a rueful smile.

“Surprise me.” You look at him, taking in the bright green glint of his eyes, and his almost icy demeanor. You set a vodka cocktail in front of him, watching as he takes a slow sip. Considering he looked at the menu as though he’d never seen an alcoholic drink before, you’re surprised he doesn’t gag.

“Don’t worry,” he says slyly, as if he’s read your mind, “I’ve drunk before.” You leave him be, going back to cleaning up the counter at the other end. You’re not trying to eavesdrop, but it’s so quiet you can hear his mutters.

“ _Why?_ Why Thor? Why did she have to fall in love with Thor… Why can’t Sif see?...” So he’d come to forget his heartbreak at the bottom of his glass. Typical.

After a while, you notice him watching you. His eyes seem to caress every curve of your body. You glance down, a little flattered.

“You look like Sif,” he says, his words a little slurred. Oh. He wasn’t admiring you, he was just looking for a replacement. And that, you tell yourself, is exactly why you should never trust the men who come here. You’ve seen too many of them come and go to delude yourself into believing one might be interested in you. Well, plenty of them had been interested in getting into your pants. To date, none have succeeded, because you knew they weren’t interested in staying.

“My name isn’t Sif,” you tell him, your disappointment making your tone sharper than you meant it to be. The rest of the bar has cleared out and you’re getting ready to close.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” you ask out of courtesy.

“No, I think I’ll be alright.” His smile makes you feel like you’re missing out on an inside joke. The alcohol hasn’t diminished the brightness in his eyes and he glances at you curiously, “What is your name?” Now he wants to know your name? What is it about him? He hasn’t exactly ingratiated himself to you, so why do you want him to return?

“Come back and maybe you’ll find out,” you say mysteriously with a wink before going to the backroom. While there, there’s a flash of bright light through the window, but you don’t see what. You come out the front entrance, looking for the man. You could’ve swore he didn’t come in a vehicle. But he’s gone. Vanished into thin air.

~

A few days later, he comes back. He doesn’t look the same though. The crazy leather outfit is gone, replaced with a more commonplace suit with a scarf. You wouldn’t have recognized him, except for the glinting green eyes and raven black hair. You must have looked surprised because he simply grins and says, “I never got that name of yours.”

“Another vodka cocktail sir?” He nods then frowns a bit disapprovingly.

“Don’t call me that,” he says.

“Who are you then?” you ask. He smirks.

“I am Loki.”

“Loki…” you whisper, trying it out. It seems to fit perfectly on him, like a tailored garment.

“You don’t like it?” Loki inquires.

“No I like it. It sounds fascinating and different and intriguing. Not unlike yourself,” you reply.

“Good. _Now_ … what is your name?” Loki questions enticingly. You laugh.

“You’re not going to get it out of me that easily.” He acts wounded, an expression of shock on his face.

“But I told you mine.”

“I didn’t ask you to, that was your doing,” you shake your head smiling. He points at you with a mocking grin.

“You are good.”

Right then and there, you decide you like him. After that he comes in regularly. Every day, precisely when the bar opens and leaves when it closes. And he always looks different. The stories he tells, you never seem to know whether or not to believe him, they seem so fantastical. He tells you about Sif, an apparently lethal warrior with ebony black hair. You try to seem indifferent when he talks about her but it’s hard. Loki complains about his brother Thor and you always rag on him for being such a sissy.

“Do you ever talk about anything else?” you ask in mock exasperation.

“You try living with that arrogant, moral sod always waving his hammer around shouting about protecting the realm,” Loki shoots back with an exaggerated impression of his brother that makes you giggle, “I swear one day he’s going to accidentally hit someone in the head with it.” He shrugs his shoulders playfully.

“I could always tell you about my plans for world domination, little mortal.” You just shake your head at him wonderingly.

“Sometimes I have no idea what you’re talking about Loki, you and your glorious purpose. Anyone else, I’d think they were mad. But you are far too sane.”

Loki comes to know your quirks and habits. He can always tell when a customer is bugging you and you can’t do anything about it because “customer service” and all that. Somehow, it always gets taken care of. You can never prove it’s him, or rather, you’re definitely sure it’s him you just have no idea how he’s doing it.

Once a man came in that was a little too rowdy for your taste. And while you’re used to the many compliments you get from the men who come to the bar, this man didn’t seem to understand the concept of personal space. Loki observed him from the side, following his every move. The man’s insistent advances on you must have displeased him. When the man picked up the drink you made for him and went to sit down, there was a loud _CRACK!_ One of the stool legs broke and the man fell ridiculously on his ass, spilling his drink all down his front. And no, you didn’t give him a refund.

Loki asks about your life after a little while, appearing genuinely interested. You finally give him your name. It seems to be a matter of confusion for him why you’re working at this bar. You tell him you’re saving up the money you get from this job to get out of here.

“Where would you go?” he queries.

“Anywhere,” you answer.

It’s true. You’re tired of the bar. And you’re tired of being alone. You never trust the men who come in and try to woo you with liquored words and inebriated promises that they never remember with the morning hangover. Some don’t mean any harm, they’re just lonely too. But the alcohol makes them rash, and you know they’re not looking for you, they’re just looking for anybody. All of them that is, except for Loki. At least, that’s what you hope.

Finally one day, Loki comes in and you see through the shimmering mirage surrounding him and see him as he was the first night he came in. Dressed in forest green, leather and metal. You realize that he’d always been wearing that, the rest of his looks were just disguises. You shift your eyes a little and see what he’s supposed to look like. An unassuming white dress shirt with black slacks. You blink, and Loki is back to his medieval type armour.

“How are you doing that?” you ask in awe. Loki is taken aback.

“You can see me?” he challenges, equally impressed, “Even Sif didn’t recognize me when I left the palace.”

“I don’t understand. Who _are_ you?” you demand.

“I am Loki, of Asgard,” he replies.

“Yes but what does that even mean?” you question irritably, “Where is Asgard? I’ve never heard of it. You talk about palaces and magic and warriors. At first, I thought they were just stories, but you talk about them as if they are real. It’s like you’re not human, not from Earth.”

“It would be easier to show you,” he explains and you just stare at him in confusion. Loki snaps his fingers and everything in the bar comes to a standstill. The people all stop mid-action, like living statues. Suddenly there’s a staff in his hand with a curving blade at the top and it’s glowing blue at the stone set in the center.

“This is my usual weapon of choice. Very powerful,” Loki motions conversationally as though this is all perfectly normal. A bowl of strawberries appears in front of him and he offers you one.

“I know they’re your favorite fruit.” You move to take it from him, hands shaking. It tastes sweet and juicy, just as a strawberry should. But you can’t enjoy it, you’re too frightened of Loki.

“When I say I am Loki, I mean, I am Loki god of mischief and magic.” He shimmers and now there’s a golden helmet with horns set upon his head and a magnificent emerald cloak flowing out from his shoulders. Your hands reach out blindly behind you searching for the cabinet to steady yourself. Loki looks at you with a radiant smile, both authoritative and feral at the same time. For an instant you see how much of his power he’s been hiding from you, then you black out.

~

When you awake the first thing you can feel are silky smooth sheets covering you and a heavenly soft pillow beneath your head. You crack open an eye and sit up suddenly, your head spinning. You stare open mouthed at the city beyond the ceiling-high windows. The golden domes and the dazzling spires seem dreamlike. You get out of the massive bed and pad silently across the marble floors to get a better look at the view.

“Do you like it?” Loki inquires from behind you. You spin to face him, startled.

“This, is Asgard.”

“So this, all of this, what you said, it’s all real?” you ask wonderstruck.

“Surprisingly enough, I wasn’t lying,” Loki remarks. You look down and notice you’re in a flowing gown and silver breastplate. You touch the armour disbelievingly.

“Standard female wear,” he says by way of explanation.

“What happened to my other clothes?” you ask suspiciously.

“When you fainted, you knocked over some of the drinks and your clothes were drenched. I had one of the maids change you into something dry.” Loki’s concern for your well being is touching.

“And this is your room?” you question.

“Yes. Although, I don’t spend too much time in it.” You look at him questioningly.

“Why is that?” He just shrugs.

“It’s a lot of space for just me by myself.” You glance back at the massive bed and the columns that tower over everything else and try imagining having to sleep here alone.

“You said you wanted to get away from the bar. So I brought you here.” Loki watches your reaction out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you."

At this moment, you’re trying to decide. The many nights he’s come to the bar to talk to you, he’s become a friend. You trust him against your better instincts. He understands you better than you understand yourself sometimes. And while you’re overwhelmed by the impressive nature of Asgard and his true identity, you understand him as well. Strip away the magic and the godliness, and you understand his personality down to the last syllable. You walk the fine line, capable of retreating back into friendship or falling in love with him. If he had simply just continued to come at night to the bar, you might have retreated back. But now… you realize that you do love him.

“Loki…” you whisper, and he looks at you, “I’m not Sif.”

“No, you’re better,” Loki smiles, “you’re _mine_.”

You take his hand and lead him back towards the bed, nervous at the thought of allowing Loki to have what you’d never given to anyone else. Sitting on the bed, Loki strokes your face gently, his thumb running across your cheek.

“I spent so long bitter that I couldn’t have Sif, I almost missed what was right in front of me.” His expression is tender and gentle, a side he’s never revealed to you before.

“Have you ever had anyone before?” you ask curiously. He shakes his head slightly.

“No.” You laugh a little breathlessly.

“I guess it’s a first time for both of us then.” Loki’s eyes widen.

“You haven’t either?” You shake your head, smiling embarrassedly. You reach out, trailing your fingertips over his face, memorizing the laugh lines and the curved cheekbones. He closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh of contentment. You kiss him and Loki’s eyes snap open and his lips part in surprise. His skin is cold but his mouth is warm and comforting. You trace the curve of his lip with your tongue and he retaliates, tugging lightly at your lower lip with his teeth. You cup the side of his neck with your hand and he trembles at the contact, unused to your touch.

Loki pushes you back slightly, attempting to follow his instincts but unsure of himself. He must be afraid of frightening you like he did at the bar. You understand his motions and you lower yourself back against the soft pillows letting Loki experiment with kissing you. Despite his inexperience, he’s quite good it, teasing you with his tongue into a deep kiss until he’s invading your mouth and you can’t breathe. He pulls back and follows your collarbone to the edge of the breastplate. Your hands are curved around his arms which he’s planted on either side of you, bracing himself above you. You don’t know exactly what you’re doing so instead you let yourself be carried away by the desire rising inside of you, trusting it to guide your hands as you shift them to the straps of his armour.

Loki senses what you’re doing and sits back, pulling you up with him. He covers your hands with his, they seem so small in comparison, moving them to the laces and helping you untie them. One by one they come undone, the straps come unbuckled as he helps you undress himself. You slide the arm guards over his hands, revealing the pale skin of his forearm. Loki shivers as you press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. As the last pieces of his armour fall away, he sits on the bed, laid bare before you.

You study him with your eyes, drinking in the slender shape of his body. The lean muscles apparent in his core, rippling beneath the skin in his arms and legs are breathtaking. Loki truly is a god. Strands of his jet black hair hang down in front of his face as he stares at the bed, self-conscious. You slink forward and run your hands down his chest and he gasps as you continue down the inside of his thighs.

“Do you like that?” you murmur, leaning forward to kiss him again. Loki claims your wrists and holds your hands against his stomach, reveling in the feeling. Then he’s turning his attention to your own attire and despite your anxiety, you allow him to undo the breastplate and lift it from you. You blush, suddenly aware that the opaque fabric underneath that hides you from Loki’s gaze only started at the skirt. The thin gossamer top is almost see through and he stares hungrily at your breasts, his breath quickening when your nipples harden from the sudden air. He slips the gown from your shoulders and then the shapeless silk material is only too easy to remove.

Loki treats you to the same attention to your body as you paid to his. You resist the urge to cover yourself with your arms as his eyes rake over you, slowing down when they reach the hourglass shape of your hips and stopping entirely at your sex. When Loki looks back up at you, his eyes seem to have deepened in their shade of green, grown darker. A flush spreads from his cheeks, betraying his arousal.

“You look… ravishing,” Loki says longingly, his voice rough from desire. The bass of his voice and the loving tone with which he compliments you sends relief flooding through you and with your insecurity no longer holding back your arousal, you find yourself becoming moist between the legs. You kneel sinuously around him, bringing your mouth back to his, pressing yourself deeper this time. Your hands roam from his shoulder blades down to his lower back. A moan escapes your lips as his hands wander to your clit, rubbing the tiny bundle of nerves smoothly sending a shock wave of electricity and pleasure through you. Loki circles languidly, enjoying the intense pleasure radiating from your voice as he uses the accumulating wetness between your folds to soothe the friction of his fingertips touching you. The tip of his erection rubs against you, leaving a moist trail across your inner thigh and he gasps briefly.

“Why me?” you ask as you pull away from the kiss, “You’re a god Loki, and I’m just… me.” Loki switches direction on your clit and your eyelids flutter from the sensation.

“Why you little mortal?” he asks with a wicked grin, but then he grows more serious, “I don’t know. I guess love is like that isn’t it?”

“You love me?” your voice comes out as a squeak of surprise. Loki leans you back in his hands and runs his hot tongue across your breast lingering at the nipple.

“You doubt me?” he asks darkly, an undercurrent of laughter resonating through his voice. So he was going to tease you was he? Two could play at that game. You reach down in between you and wrap your fingers around his shaft stroking up his impressive length. Loki breaks off with a choked moan and a shiver runs down his spine. His control seems to melt in your grasp and you can hear the slick sound of your hand on him as your stroke downward again, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

“No, I don’t doubt you at all,” you lips curve into a mischievous grin as you tease his tip with the pad of your thumb, “I love you too.”

“Why you... sly little... minx,” Loki manages to get out in spite of his breathlessness, “I’m starting to think I underestimated you mortals. You’re far cleverer than I gave you credit for. But then again, I am a god.”

You shriek in astonishment as you find yourself flat on your back with your wrists stretched above your head tied to the headboard with his green cloak.

“Sorry love, I only have two hands and I need them for something far more interesting than pinning yours down.”

“Magic,” you laugh as you watch him. He just chuckles and prowls towards you like a predator comes at his prey. Loki pushes your knees apart easily, his mouth seeking his target with unerring accuracy and he pauses just above your swollen flesh so that you can feel his hot breath on your clit. Loki stares straight at you, his piercing emerald eyes locking with yours as he drags his tongue along your sex.

“Loki!” you scream throwing your head back, painfully aware that his tongue is just as magical as the rest of him. He lifts his head up.

“Yes love?” Loki asks innocently.

“Don’t you dare stop,” you command. His eyebrows raise.

“Say my name,” he demands. You fill your voice with all the strength you have left, until it drips with desire and pleasure and your desperate need for his love.

“ _Loki!_ ” you say and he secures his lips over your clit so that there’s no escaping him. You almost don’t believe he’s never done this before he’s so skilled with his mouth, every kiss and every stroke causing your hips to rise off the bed of their own accord. No wonder he’s called Silvertongue. And that was before Loki slid his fingers inside of you. They curve against your walls knowing exactly where to press and once he finds your spot, Loki thrusts them in mercilessly. Between the friction of his mouth and the aching jagged rhythm of his fingers, you’re almost delirious from the waves of pleasure racking your body. It’s impossible to hold back when you finally crest, limbs quivering as Loki raises himself from you, a sheen of sweat covering his body and his mouth messy from you. He wipes it off with the back of his hand and with a snap the scarf is gone and you’re free to sit up again.

You kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips as you tangle your fingers in his long black hair and he pulls you against him with your own hair. His fingers comb through the strands, your hair becoming glossy and sleek at his touch. Loki is greedy and unsatisfied, you can tell from the way he handles you. Well, he won’t be for long. With a shout you tumble him backward on the bed, placing your palms on his chest to hold him down. Loki tries to relax at your touch but it seems to electrify him instead, every sensation almost heightened for him, every feeling new. You brush the damp locks from his forehead and he holds your hand against his cheek.

“Thank you,” Loki says.

“For what?” you murmur, touching your nose against his.

“For letting me be your first.” You smile.

“I wouldn’t have given it to anyone else.” Loki kisses you softly.

“Nor would I. So take it from me,” he whispers.

You sink down onto him, burying yourself to the hilt with him. You can see the muscles tensing in Loki’s neck as he desperately tries to keep himself still, allowing you time to adjust to the whole of him inside you. You bite your lip, feeling an equal combination of pleasure and pain from his size and your eyes screw shut as you wait for the throbbing to pass. After a moment, you try moving, eliciting an almost inhuman sound from him. Then again, Loki isn’t human.

You increase the pace, sliding along him to the tip but never coming off before thrusting back down again. He grips your hips with his hands, steadying you in his lap, so tightly he might leave bruises but it offers a contrast from the intensity between your legs. Loki begins to meet your downward strokes with upward ones of his own so that his hard length drives deeper into you every time. You roll your hips so that your overly sensitized clit rubs against his core muscles. Loki moans softly and you squeeze his shaft causing him to shout your name. He turns you over, taking control and cants himself into you meeting that spot with every thrust. You can feel yourself building again, so soon after the first as your bodies collide again and again over and over. He rides you fiercely, a possessive need bright in his eyes until both you and him lose control over the rhythm that stutters erratically as you go over the edge. Loki spends himself inside you and you climax for the second time.

He pants above you and you gasp into his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. Loki pulls out and rolls off of you and both of you lay boneless on the bed. After a moment you regain some of your strength and drag yourself to where he is to lay your head against his chest.

“Do you want to stay here with me?” Loki asks quietly and you feel the vibration against your ear. You prop your head up to look at him, trying to ascertain if he’s being serious or not. Never going back to that bar, staying in this magnificent place with Loki who makes love like a god. It seems too good to be true.

“Would you like me to?” you ask uncertainly. Loki holds out a fist to you and when he opens it, in his palm is a beautiful emerald ring.

“For you,” he says. In an instant you have a vision of yourself in the Asgardian armoured gowns every day, having Loki teach you the skills to be a warrior. He would stand behind you, steadying your arms as you pull back the string of a bow. Coming home to this spacious room where no one can disturb the two of you. Giving him a child. A laughing dark haired child with green eyes. You can see yourself cradling him against you and setting him down when Loki comes through the door so that his child could run to him. And Loki would pick him up and swing him above his head… That could all be yours.

“Yes,” you reply, tears sparkling in your eyes, “Yes I want to stay here with you.” Loki gently takes your left hand and slides the ring on your finger.

“So you shall be my goddess.” And Loki smiles, happy.


End file.
